


contrail

by kokko (bwoozi)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bedtime Stories, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Winnie-the-Pooh References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwoozi/pseuds/kokko
Summary: What a beautiful thing it is, Wonwoo thinks—for “goodbye” to not mean “forever.”(I. IN WHICHSoonyoung and Wonwoo Find Love, Among Other Things)





	contrail

**Author's Note:**

> hello! bwoozi is back after a looong time! i was away for a while because of university--i'm finishing up my first year in about a week, though. i am so happy to be posting again!!! brace yourself, i have a lot to say...
> 
> i mostly just want to thank a whole lot of people for putting up with me during the process of not only writing this fic, but the other fics i attempted to write earlier this semester and last semester... i kept scrapping everything for a while, and it was so exhausting, but so many people supported me through it!! amber and kristen, as per usual, are my most beloved suckie sisters and the best betas of all time! and as for my college friends... sam, darren, justin, thanks for listening to me ramble about this for forever, i hope it lives up to the hype, love you guys kfjhjkfh. thanks to cat as well, for reassuring me about my anxiety around returning to fic, and for adopting me into this beautiful community in the first place. i owe so much to her.
> 
> notes on the fic itself:  
> \- there are SO many winnie the pooh references, i went overboard. each quote that breaks up different parts is from winnie the pooh/the house at pooh corner, and the second half of the description is in the style of how pooh chapters are titled  
> \- the title has like, nothing to do with the fic? originally, i was going to write wonwoo as an aviation major, but ended up not mentioning it very much. but i was too attached to it, so it stuck!  
> \- soonyoung and wonwoo go to a mid-sized state university in the midwest united states!
> 
> i think that's all i have to say. please enjoy! i worked really hard!!!

_              {“As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen.”} _

It takes a fascinating person to earn the nickname of “Duck Boy,” at least in Wonwoo’s opinion. He’s probably the only person to call him that, though. It’s a fair conclusion to draw—he’s always sat on the bridge on the pond just outside the student center, carefully tearing apart smuggled pieces of bread from the dining commons or digging in his pockets for stray Cheerios. Wonwoo watches him from the path on the hill, usually while he walks back from class. He’s usually not so hung up on people he doesn’t really know, but Duck Boy’s there today, in what looks to be Tigger pajama pants, with a fistful of bread crusts tucked closely to his torso, and somewhere between five to ten ducks crowding him.

Wonwoo thinks he likes Duck Boy so much because he can’t decide if he’s bizarre or endearing. Keeps him guessing. Sometimes, he thinks actually talking to Duck Boy would ruin the illusion. Even talking about Duck Boy might ruin the image he’s made in his head—though Wonwoo’s sure other people have noticed him.

But these are all probably excuses, too. It is so like Wonwoo to talk himself out of things, and yet he wonders how he ends up in such small—nearly nonexistent—circles.

He’s on his first coffee run of the semester, and it’s still warm, which he’s grateful for. Coffee is better iced. It’s also better enjoyed alone, Wonwoo thinks, but he’s not opposed to meeting with Jeonghan and Jihoon. He only has so many friends. They’re not particularly close, but they’re easy to talk to. Relatable. Jeonghan lead Jihoon and Wonwoo’s orientation group in freshman year, and the three of them got along pretty well. It seems right to catch up before classes pick up too much.

Jihoon is sitting in the back of the Starbucks when Wonwoo gets there—just Jihoon. He flashes Wonwoo a close-mouthed smile before joining him in line.

“That guy’s feeding ducks again.” Jihoon starts, because he’s a fucking mind reader. “You see him? Last year, he even fed them when it rained. I don’t even go to class when it’s raining.”

Wonwoo laughs dryly. “For real.” He fumbles for his wallet for a moment before recalling his train of thought. “Oh yeah, where’s Jeonghan?”

“He had some RA program today,” Jihoon says, “he’s really up to his fuckin’ ears in that shit.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” The line inches forward—Jihoon orders first. Of course he gets an Americano. Wonwoo decides on some cold brew they’re promoting, with lots of milk, because he’s a coward. He’s eventually following Jihoon back to his seat, dropping his backpack on the floor carelessly and gnawing slightly on his straw.

Jihoon talks about his other friends. This always interests Wonwoo. Jihoon isn’t very talkative—but he somehow has more to talk about than Wonwoo does. He’s got this new roommate, Josh, who’s inhumanly nice, to the point that it unsettles him. He’s made all these new upperclassmen friends in his new classes, and they’ve been taking him to all these hipster-y restaurants and bars. His music has been getting more attention. Wonwoo, as it seems, doesn’t do much. He’s pretty good at listening, though. They talk for a while. It’s refreshing, even if Wonwoo’s not sure they’ll ever get any closer, even if Wonwoo doesn’t say much.

Refreshing, even though he’s not sure how long he can keep this up.

“You got any plans for this year?” Jihoon asks eventually, maybe prompting Wonwoo, maybe just curious. Wonwoo can feel the ice in his drink shift uncomfortably. He looks around like he’s thinking, and catches sight of Duck Boy, walking away from the pond, one duck halfheartedly following behind.

“Not yet,” he sighs, “I guess I’m hoping something will come to me.”

Jihoon laughs, flat but genuine. “That’s a way to go about it.”

———

Wonwoo absolutely cannot believe that his existentialism class is a part of the gen-ed program. It’s like the university said, “how can we make freshman and sophomores want to die more than they already do?” and Nietzsche replied, “I have an idea.”

It’s honestly a little sad, how much of their discussion makes Wonwoo feel like his life is a joke. Or like his head’s being cracked open and his most anxious thoughts are up for debate among thirty or so stoners. Honestly, if Wonwoo’s learned anything about himself in this class since the start of the semester (which was not long ago, mind you), it’s that his vapid fantasy of being married and having a decent job offers almost nothing in the way of giving him a purpose. And yet, he craves it. That’s another thing he’s learned—he not only has no control of how he feels, he just lacks control in general. And that’s fine. Such is life.

“We found a few houses,” Wonwoo’s mother tells him, “all about a half hour outside Seattle.” He’d forgotten he was on the phone. Either way, it’s not like he’s surprised when he comes to. Wonwoo’s dad works for a pretty sizable company. And Wonwoo’s grateful for it, because it’s the reason his family lives relatively comfortably, but it’s often less of a blessing and more of a curse. This has to be his family’s third move in five years. How many branches can one company even have?

He’s sitting on the ground, staring at the brick wall outside his classroom, tugging at his shoelaces. There’s no use in trying to change the subject, but Wonwoo can at least try to redirect it. “What’s Bohyuk going to do?”

“He’ll be finishing high school there, and probably applying for colleges there, too.” Wonwoo hums, and there’s a very palpable silence between the two of them. This is always uncomfortable, and it’s only worse over the phone. “Which, by the way—”

Wonwoo interrupts without realizing. “I thought Bohyuk wanted to go to college here?”

“He did,” She says, “but we think it’ll be better if he’s closer to us.”

“Oh.”

“And you too, Wonwoo.” Admittedly, he’s played out this scenario in his head before, and he did consider his mother wanting something like that. He just didn’t think it would be at such an opportune time for her to argue for it. “If next semester goes well, you’ll have your associate’s, so if you wanted to transfer…”

“Oh.” Wonwoo swallows. What else is there to say?

“You don’t have to, but you should think about it.”

Wonwoo doesn’t even know how to begin thinking about that. His professor arrives and unlocks the classroom door, and while his classmates filter in, Wonwoo stays with his knees pulled to his chest, glaring at his phone as soon as he hangs up. His heart aches something awful, and then it subsides, numb save for his jaw tightening just slightly. There’s something deeply unsettling about how little he cares about this, how briefly he’s afflicted by it all.

He follows his professor into the classroom. There was an online discussion due that he forgot about, and he decides that it’s easier to focus on that—allowing himself to settle for a late grade and pretend to take notes while he bullshits a post on his laptop.

Ultimately, he decides that none of this is worth thinking about right now, anyway.

———

The way back to the dorms from class is always the worst, because at that point, Wonwoo’s already checked out mentally, and his body craves to follow in his brain’s footsteps. Each stretch of sidewalk feels like a tar pit. He can feel the soles of his shoes drag across the asphalt and he hates it, wishes he could just lie down already, but judging by the red-painted wood that appear abruptly under his feet, he’s already crossing the bridge over the pond. And, you know, a bridge isn’t the best place to lie down, especially when Wonwoo only has five more minutes of walking until he gets home.

He can tell without lifting his head that the ducks are around—there’s duck poop everywhere, and he can hear quacking even through his headphones. It’s like an omen. He catches a flipper in the corner of his eye, then another, and another. And then he’s narrowly avoiding colliding with a mallard—and then—

And then, out of nowhere, a human foot. Crossed legs. A pudgy hand, clenched tightly, with a duck bill nudging at its knuckles. Wonwoo draws his eyes up to meet an awfully expectant gaze and a terribly warm smile.

He takes out his earbuds absentmindedly, failing to realize that he’s come to a rather awkward, sudden stop. He’s never taken the bridge home when Duck Boy’s been around, and he half expected running into him like this to feel like intrusion, but he’s… just sitting there, looking up at Wonwoo, unperturbed, save for the persistent eye contact.

“Hello,” he says politely, tossing a Cheerio in front of him to keep the ducks at a comfortable distance. Wonwoo wants to say he’s flabbergasted. It’s funny to him, somehow—that Duck Boy is more than something Wonwoo can only observe.

“Uh.” Wonwoo takes a step back, suddenly nervous, fiddling idly with his earbud cord. “What’s up?”

“Hangin’ out with these guys,” Soonyoung says fondly, almost dreamily. His eyes widen when he notices the way Wonwoo’s standing—starkly, in the middle of the walkway. “Oh—you can keep walking, if you want to, they’ll move over if you—”

“Do you feed them a lot?” He asks as if he doesn’t know.

“You ask as if you don’t know.” Duck Boy lets out a giggle that softens when he sees Wonwoo’s jaw drop a bit. “I see you around a lot, is all.”

“Oh. Yeah, I do too.” It’s a weird feeling to know that he’s known about Wonwoo all this time, too. It’s weirder to know this is the first time they’ve actually seen each other. Up close, at least.

“Mm.” Wonwoo blinks a few times before either continue. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

“I’m Wonwoo.” It’s a simple statement that calls for a simple response.

Thing is, Wonwoo expects more words, but instead receives a rather forceful half-handful of Cheerios, and a gentle tug on the hem of his shirt. Without even realizing it, Wonwoo finds himself in no rush to get home—in no rush at all, even.

 

_              {“I was walking along looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn’t anymore.”} _

It’s partially Wonwoo’s fault that he doesn’t keep friends, so he’s in no place to complain. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get lonely, though, especially when it’s still rather early in the semester. It’s Saturday and he doesn’t have anything to do—he already spent Friday locked up in his room playing video games, and his eyes still feel a bit strained, despite sleeping for thirteen hours straight.

Wonwoo is left with only his thoughts and a half-eaten bagel to keep him company, sitting and basking in the morning sun, feet up on a table in a lounge in the student center. Sliding his feet slightly out of his shoes and wiggling his toes against the sole. Being bored. He’s told himself he’s going to call his mom back before the end of the month, and he’s starting to regret it. He is both haunted and comforted by this sickening feeling that he may only have so much time left here—not as in being alive, as in being on this side of the country. But then again, who knows? Someone could come up behind him any second, with a gun or a knife or something, and—

“Hey, Wonwoo.” Oh, Jesus. Wonwoo nearly gives himself whiplash turning around in his chair. He swears to himself he’s not usually so jittery.

“Soonyoung,” He exhales, failing to remember his name for a brief moment. “Duck Boy” was what came to mind first—and it doesn’t help that he’s wearing those damn Tigger pajama pants again.

Wonwoo would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see him. They’d talked quite a bit the other day on the bridge. Soonyoung had even given Wonwoo his number, but in true Wonwoo fashion, he didn’t think to text him at all. Even so, Wonwoo knows very little about him as a person so far—just that he’s a childhood education major and he used to raise chickens (hence the duck feeding habit)—but he’s drawn the conclusion that Soonyoung is genuinely nice to be around, to the point that he’s not even mad that Soonyoung nearly just made him shit his pants.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Wonwoo thinks that’s the kindest possible way to say, “you look wrecked.”

He snorts. “I did, yeah. Maybe too much, though.”

Wonwoo’s noticed that Soonyoung’s smile is just his two front teeth, sometimes. “That’ll do it, huh?” Soonyoung takes it upon himself to pop a squat in the chair right across from Wonwoo. He panics a bit—he doesn’t think he’s very good at small talk. Their initial conversation felt like a fluke. Soonyoung leans forward and rests his head in his hands dramatically. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, man,” Wonwoo breathes, crossing his arms, “Right now? Sitting.”

“Riveting. How long have you been sitting?”

Good question. Wonwoo checks his phone and stretches almost involuntarily. “Like, an hour?” Soonyoung nods, humming. “What about you?”

“I’m putting off this paper that’s due Monday…” Soonyoung trails off, seething a bit. “But I didn’t make any plans, so it’s not working out very well. I was thinking you might want to help me out with that…” He’s giving Wonwoo this weird look that he can’t quite explain.

“…Help you with your paper?” He says, nose scrunched in displeasure.

“No, no. Help me  _ put off _ my paper.”

That explains that look, then.  _ “Oh,”  _ Wonwoo says, rolling his eyes at himself and cramming a final bite of bagel in his mouth. “Like, you want to hang out?”

“Yeah. I figure since you sat and fed ducks with me last time, we could do something you like to do, maybe.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “I don’t do a lot, if I’m honest.”

Soonyoung leans back in his chair. “That’s not true. Everyone has some kinda silly, like, ritualistic thing they do—I’m convinced.”

Wonwoo purses his lips. Maybe getting out more will do him well. Maybe making a new friend will do him even better. They’re all maybes, though. Soonyoung’s giving him the same expectant look he did when Wonwoo first saw him.

Wonwoo’s eyes light up. “Wait, I guess I do have an idea.”

———

“What do you usually get?”

One of Wonwoo’s more abstract philosophies is that you can tell a lot about a person by what flavor Slurpee they get, and you can tell a lot about a flavor of Slurpee by what kind of person gets it. The second bit sounds confusing, but Wonwoo knows it to be true. For instance, he’s never tasted the Sour Patch watermelon flavor, but he knows Jihoon likes it, so it probably tastes like an energy drink, chugged out of desperation while cramming for seven hours straight.

Anyway. There’s a 7/11 right across the street from Wonwoo’s dorm that’s mostly popular because they don’t card, but Wonwoo could honestly care less. He wonders how freshmen can come here for booze and booze alone—like, the Slurpee machine is  _ right there. _

“Blue, always blue. Or red, if there’s no blue.” Wonwoo expected this. And, because he has self-control, he refrains from teasing Soonyoung about how colors aren’t flavors. He looks over to see him debating between the small and medium size cups. Wonwoo assumes that he decides on the small because it’s cute—seems like a Soonyoung thought to have. Wonwoo gets the small one too, but it’s because he has a tiny bladder, and the walk back to his dorm is always longer than it seems. “Why, what do you get?”

Wonwoo replies with conviction. “Piña Colada.”

“Piña Colada?” Soonyoung repeats, face screwing up not in disgust, but in confusion. “Whose favorite Slurpee flavor is  _ Piña Colada? _ I’ve literally never seen anyone get Piña Colada.”

“Mine,” Wonwoo insists, “and that’s exactly why.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like, I think I started liking it so much ‘cause nobody ever gets it, so it never runs out. I never have to settle for a different flavor.” Wonwoo likes to think he knows a lot about Slurpees, so when he over-fills his cup a bit and it spurts out of the opening of the lid, he’s reasonably a little flustered. Soonyoung watches Wonwoo lick it off the sides, his brows furrowed as if it wasn’t his own doing. “Also, it’s just, like, subtly delicious? And artful, in a way I can’t really explain.” He was completely serious until Soonyoung looked at him with that grin—he smiles dumbly. “What?”

“You’re just funny, is all.”

Wonwoo is puzzled. Something about being under the scrutiny of Soonyoung makes his face heat up. He’s trying not to smile, and that’s making Soonyoung smile, and all Wonwoo can think to do is start towards the front counter and nibble at his straw. Soonyoung punches him in the shoulder lightly, like an old friend would, if Wonwoo had any of those.

———

Wonwoo has scarcely considered himself a hopeless romantic or even a lonely person, but sometimes, when he comes home, there’s this feeling in the pit of his chest that makes him yearn for affection. And most of the time, it’s not even a kiss at his door that he’s craving, he’s just entertaining the notion of having someone to walk him home that he just can’t bear parting with. It’s been ages since someone else has gone out of their way to bring him all the way to his door—to hug him or pat him on the back before turning and leaving.

He’s always thought it was childish to think about those kind of things, and subsequently, has always dismissed them very quickly. Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s having so much trouble now, with a full bladder and an empty Slurpee cup in hand. He’s been expecting Soonyoung to go his own way ever since they left the 7/11, and Soonyoung just hasn’t. It’s making Wonwoo’s skin crawl.

They just can’t cut their conversation short. It’s taken Wonwoo longer to finish his Slurpee than normal (usually it’s gone before he’s even halfway back to his dorm), all because he wants to keep talking to Soonyoung. And it’s just little things, too, Soonyoung babbling about this house party he went to last week, Wonwoo telling him about the time he went to a house party in freshman year and hated it. Complaining about classes. Debating between Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network. Soonyoung very obviously thinks Wonwoo is funny. Wonwoo is very obviously giddy about it.

Wonwoo has never been so anxious to stand at his own door, but Soonyoung is behind him, fiddling with his straw while Wonwoo struggles with his key. His struggle is only a little intentional—he knows they’ll have to part eventually, but he just loves talking to Soonyoung, and wishes he wasn’t so passive so he could ask him to stay.

But there is a moment, when Wonwoo opens the door, where he notices Soonyoung following closely behind him and dragging his own fingertips across the heavy wood, his arm looming just beside Wonwoo’s. And Wonwoo turns, as if anticipating Soonyoung to be gone already, only to meet this  _ look _ on Soonyoung’s face. It’s a look that says he doesn’t want to leave quite yet, either. It prompts Wonwoo to hold the door open from the inside and invite Soonyoung to take his shoes off.

Wonwoo never considered that there could be something better than a parting kiss, as far as his bizarrely specific romcom-esque fantasy goes. But there’s definitely something, and Wonwoo thinks it must have something to do with how his room isn’t empty when the door shuts behind him, or with how Soonyoung evidently sits cross-legged even in desk chairs.

 

_              {“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.”} _

“You’re moving?”

This dream is an anecdote from Wonwoo’s past. It’s a little awful that Wonwoo can recognize the face of the boy in this dream, but not his name. It’s  _ really _ awful that Wonwoo doesn’t even know if he’d remember the name when awake. In the dream, Wonwoo just nods. Not necessarily because he chooses to—because he’d nodded back then, too.

“Stop messing around, Wonwoo.” He’s angry and confused. He’ll start crying soon. Wonwoo always hated having this conversation—it just gets old. It doesn’t help that he has to have it in his dreams, too.

“I’m not,” Wonwoo says, swallowing.

“You can’t,” He replies, choking on tears, hands curling into fists. “We’re best friends, you can’t…”

This is the part when he never really knows what to do. If he had more sense, he’d hug him. He would’ve hugged him then, even. Though, thinking back on it, he never really hugged any of his best friends goodbye—never thought to. And he used to regret it, until they stopped calling a month into him being away, and then he’d just wonder if they ever really meant it at all.

Wonwoo’s had a lot of best friends.

———

Soonyoung’s roommate, a freshman named Seokmin, happens to be visiting his parents on a particular weekend in October—and, thusly, Wonwoo has been cordially invited to hang out in Soonyoung’s room anytime during said weekend. Of the times Soonyoung and Wonwoo have hung out, it’s always been in Wonwoo’s room, simply because he has a single room. There’s never a roommate to worry about disturbing. Seokmin apparently has a big TV, though, so Soonyoung suggests they watch some movies. Wonwoo would honestly do anything with Soonyoung. He just wants to have Soonyoung around for as long as possible before the end of next semester, even if it’s selfish of him.

(Selfish, maybe, but it was Soonyoung who ended up writing that paper he was putting off in Wonwoo’s room later that weekend, after eventually returning to his own dorm to shower and retrieve his laptop. Wonwoo, at first, was unsure why Soonyoung stuck around for so long. Like, doesn’t he have other friends? Not that Wonwoo minds being with Soonyoung at all—it was just such a fluke that they ended up hanging out. It seems too good to be true that they both feel a connection to each other, but if Wonwoo learned anything from practically spending seventy-two straight hours with Soonyoung, it’s that he’s overwhelmingly easy to read. And from what Wonwoo has read, Soonyoung doesn’t want to leave Wonwoo alone just as much as Wonwoo doesn’t want to leave Soonyoung alone.

So, maybe not so selfish after all.)

Wonwoo hasn’t been in Soonyoung’s hall before. It’s on the other side of campus, in a complex much newer than Wonwoo’s own—much newer. The lobby has these weird, fisher-price plastic egg chairs, in bright yellow and blue. And, like, neither of those are even their school colors. It’s bizarre. Earlier, Wonwoo had scaled the stairs to Soonyoung’s room almost hastily, trying to avoid prying glances from other residents.

It was kind of startling to enter Soonyoung’s room—not in a bad way, though. Wonwoo never pictured what Soonyoung’s room would look like, but after seeing it, he couldn’t imagine it looking any other way. He’s got blue gingham bedding with a handmade quilt at the end of it, for God’s sake. He’s told Wonwoo about his interest in children’s literature before, so he expected his dorm’s pre-installed shelf to have a couple kid’s books, but evidently, it’s stocked full of them. Granted, it’s only 2 shelves, but still.

Seokmin’s side is a little more barren than Soonyoung’s, apparently because he goes home for the weekend more often. But, since the TV is on Seokmin’s desk, it’s easier to see from Soonyoung’s bed, so watching movies ends up being just as comfortable as it is fun. They watch The Crow first, as per Wonwoo’s request, and then 13 going on 30, as per Soonyoung’s. By the time the credits of 13 going on 30 are rolling, it’s getting pretty late. Soonyoung gets up to turn off the TV and plops down at his desk, stretching from his chair.

“You can sleep here,” Soonyoung says, amidst a comfortable silence, “I’ll just take Seokmin’s bed for the night.”

Wonwoo celebrates quietly, much to Soonyoung’s amusement. He’s happy he doesn’t have to walk home, but also, just happy he doesn’t have to leave Soonyoung’s bed. Wonwoo wiggles his toes and sits up to look at Soonyoung where he’s sat across the room.

“Read me a bedtime story?” This makes Soonyoung laugh, to the point that he doubles over in his desk chair a bit. Wonwoo pulls his knees closer to himself from under Soonyoung’s comforter, chuckling through his nose. “I’m serious,” he says, and though he meant it to sound insincere, he thinks he might  _ actually  _ be serious.

“What do you want me to read?”

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo clicks his tongue. He hasn’t read a kid’s book since he was—well, a kid. Soonyoung would probably make a better decision. “Got any recommendations?”

Soonyoung has begun to thumb through the bookshelf adjacent to his desk. “What’d you like to read as a kid?”

“I think… Dr. Seuss? I was The Cat in the Hat for Halloween for like, two years.”

“First of all, that’s adorable; and second of all, you have excellent taste.” His eyes are wide with excitement—it’s precious. “But they’re kinda short, you probably won’t be asleep by the time I finish reading...” Soonyoung seems so determined to read to him until he sleeps—like,  _ actually _ sleeps. It makes Wonwoo feel like hiding his face in his hands.

“What’s the biggest book you have, then?”

Soonyoung grins devilishly, a hand creeping towards the top shelf, plucking the thickest book from the bunch. It’s hard-cover, but the protective slip has long since fell off, revealing a pale-yellow cover with gold detail and a baby blue seam. Soonyoung’s wiggling it in the air, bouncing a bit with excitement. Wonwoo raises his eyebrows.

“It’s actually two books in one,” Soonyoung clarifies,  _ “The World of Pooh. _ It has  _ Winnie-the-Pooh _ and  _ The House at Pooh Corner _ in it.”

“You’re so excited,” Wonwoo notes, mostly to himself. Soonyoung’s cute when he’s like this.

“Of course. Pooh is my favorite, Wonwoo.” Soonyoung’s climbing into his bed already, handing off the book to Wonwoo so he can adjust his pillows, eventually reclining against the wall. Wonwoo knew Pooh was his favorite even before Soonyoung said so—his mind’s image of Soonyoung is always wearing Tigger pajama pants, which Soonyoung is coincidentally wearing right now.

As soon as he’s comfortable, Soonyoung is patting the space beside him on his bed, a (what seems to be intentional) fraction of an inch away from him. And, because Wonwoo has learned he never regrets taking Soonyoung up on his offers, he scoots right up next to him, until their sides are completely pressed together. Wonwoo does the honors of pulling the comforter over the two of them, placing the book in Soonyoung’s lap and his head against Soonyoung’s shoulder.

Soonyoung inhales gently, trying and failing to stifle a fond smile. It goes unnoticed from where Wonwoo’s head is tucked close to his collarbone. On the exhale, he begins reading.

“Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin…”

———

Wonwoo is dreaming again.

Though he did fall asleep on Soonyoung’s shoulder quite a few nights ago (after only three chapters of  _ Winnie-the-Pooh, _ might Wonwoo add), tonight’s dream is different, likely because Wonwoo’s in his own room. In this dream, he and Soonyoung are in one of Wonwoo’s old houses, but it’s in the middle of a field rather than the middle of a suburb. It’s horribly sunny, and they take a blanket out to lay in the grass—it’s much too tall. The grass, that is. When they’re settled down, Wonwoo can hardly see over it. They’re chatting idly, with Soonyoung leaning against Wonwoo, the weight glaringly apparent to him. A pond appears behind them at some point. The sky is lavender.  It’s definitely a bit surreal, but not enough for Wonwoo realize he’s dreaming—he’s still shocked when he wakes up to darkness and the sound of and opening door.

Wonwoo is too tired to turn over, but he knows Soonyoung is there, and it’s only further confirmed when he feels someone climb into bed with him, lifting the comforter ever so slightly to slip under it, lying on his back at first, one of his shoulders squished against Wonwoo’s back.

“Are you awake?”

Hardly. Wonwoo knows he must’ve invited Soonyoung over, because he left his door unlocked, but he can’t even remember that.

“Wonwoo?”

It’s not like he’s trying to deceive Soonyoung—at this point, he’s practically asleep again.

He expects Soonyoung to sleep beside him as is. As he has before. But he just lies there, waiting for Wonwoo to respond. And Wonwoo nearly does, until he feels Soonyoung turn over, pressing his face into Wonwoo’s hair with a soft sigh, letting his arm drape over his waist. That’s… new. It’s new and warm and comforting, and Wonwoo drifts off almost immediately.

He doesn’t dream when he falls back asleep. Doesn’t need to.

 

_              {“A day spent with you is my favorite day. So today is my new favorite day.”} _

It was inevitable that Soonyoung and Wonwoo would go and feed ducks again—they’ve kept putting it off, in favor of getting Slurpees, or cuddling in front of the TV, or reading Winnie-the-Pooh. It happens. Maybe it’s intentional, the way they’re avoiding it; the memory of the first time they fed ducks together is so essential and prominent in Wonwoo’s head, and he often thinks it’s like that for Soonyoung, too.

Soonyoung’s filled up his hoodie pockets with Cheerios already, and as he shrugs it on, seems to realize that it’s a bit too cold for just a hoodie. And, therefore, probably too cold for the ducks, too. It’s obvious in the way that his lips pout as soon as they step outside, his hands immediately grabbing his forearms and desperately trying to rub warmth into them. He keeps walking, so he must have hope.

It’s nearly one o’ clock sharp, and as Soonyoung has said before: the ducks aren’t stupid, they know when it’s lunchtime, and they know where to hang around for food. Usually, they choose the outdoor tables between the Starbucks and the pond, so that’s where they’re headed.

(On a somewhat unrelated note, Wonwoo is enjoying the weather as it is—even if he worries the ducks won’t be around. The trees around campus have about a third of their leaves left, and those leaves are flying off and flurrying around him and Soonyoung bit by bit, eventually settling among the brilliant red and orange they’re stepping through. Wonwoo can recall, about a few days ago, when a grounds worker had abandoned a half-raked pile of leaves to retrieve something from their cart, and Soonyoung had ran towards it and jumped straight in. And the grounds worker had glared at him, so Wonwoo took him by the arm and ran like hell. He hasn’t felt that much like a child—in a good way—since he was actually a child.

But, recollections aside, there will be no leaf shenanigans today, in favor of serious duck business.)

“I don’t see them?” Wonwoo comments as they near the Starbucks, worry dripping from his voice. Soonyoung hums.

“For real?” He gets on his tiptoes, as if that would help. Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s  _ that  _ much taller than Soonyoung…

“Yeah.” Wonwoo squints. “And they weren’t by the bridge when we passed by, either…”

“Oh.” Soonyoung pouts again. Immediately, Wonwoo wants to squeeze him as tight as possible, but he holds back. He feels sad for Soonyoung—he’s been so busy with class and with Wonwoo that he, Duck Boy, hadn’t even realized the ducks may be gone already. “You don’t think they’ve flown south already, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo says softly. He honestly doesn’t know, but… “I haven’t seen them around for at least a week, though, if I’m being honest.”

Soonyoung hangs his head dramatically, but the upturn of his brow says that he is actually pretty disappointed. Wonwoo pats him on the back.

“Aw, man. Seems like we did miss them, then.” Soonyoung inhales with a click of his tongue. “At least they’ll be back in the spring.”

Wonwoo nods, suddenly going quiet and stone-faced. There’s something about the way Soonyoung said that—he’s sad, clearly, but has some kind of comfort in the fact that they really  _ won’t _ be gone forever. Wonwoo wishes he didn’t know exactly why that makes him feel guilty.

It hits him that Soonyoung is not the temporary one—Soonyoung will be here until he graduates, no matter what, or at least in this state. And Wonwoo is here, for now, making memories with Soonyoung without any concern for how Soonyoung will feel about them later on. It has never been the things around Wonwoo that are fleeting; it’s been him, since the very beginning.

“Wonwoo.” Soonyoung’s waving a hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

The thought of seeing Soonyoung hurt terrifies him, to the point that he snaps out of it immediately, or at least makes it seem like that—and smiles at Soonyoung. Soonyoung smiles back, with all his teeth, and Wonwoo feels compelled to return it. It comforts him, at least for the time being.

Memories could be harmless, Wonwoo thinks, so long as they’re made with Soonyoung. He’ll definitely remember the way Soonyoung digs into his pocket, dejectedly, but somehow still beaming, and crams as many Cheerios into his mouth as he can. Soonyoung’s the type who doesn’t let anything go to waste, after all.

———

Soonyoung suggested they get fried chicken as a reward for an especially long week—before it really gets cold out. December is creeping up on them, and while Soonyoung is not having  _ any _ of that, his constant fried chicken craving definitely isn’t either. There’s this nice underground kind of place right off campus that’s not really underground at all, considering how many students know about it. Their hours tend to be strange, though, so Soonyoung hasn’t been there in a while. Wonwoo himself has never been in the first place—Soonyoung finds that hard to believe.

There’s very few tables inside, but it’s alright—it’s not very busy tonight. They snag one easily, right by the window, outside of which the sun is already setting. It’s already been agreed upon that Wonwoo will pay for both of them. His mom sent him a hundred dollars out of the blue yesterday. He still thinks it might’ve been a bribe, but that’s something he’ll debate with himself about some other time.

Wonwoo hasn’t really been out to eat with Soonyoung. It’s nice. He shares meals with Soonyoung more often than not, lately, but something about treating them both to quality food feels good in a way he can’t really explain.

Soonyoung kind of eats with his mouth open, but somehow, it’s endearing. He only does it because the chicken is hot, anyway, which Wonwoo figures is a good thing. They were having a nice conversation before their food arrived, but Wonwoo can’t really remember it now that he’s halfway through his food—they’ve eaten in silence this whole time. Wonwoo figures that is also a good thing.

Soonyoung does stop for a moment, towards the end of his meal. He leans back in his chair and pats his stomach a few times, as if encouraging it to digest so he can keep eating. He smiles at Wonwoo with greasy lips before asking, completely out of the blue, “Is this a date?”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Wonwoo narrows his eyes. “Is it?”

“I don’t know,” he giggles, “what do you consider a date?”

Wonwoo’s glad that he isn’t the type to go red in the face easily. “I don’t know.” Thing is, he does know. He would’ve considered so many things he’s done with Soonyoung so far a date if they were under slightly different circumstances—it’s only hit him now, when they’re out to eat together and Wonwoo’s paying, that it’s felt like this since the start. It’s a lot to take in. He can tell his eyes have gone wide now, and Soonyoung only makes it more apparent when he mimics him and kicks his feet beneath the table.

Soonyoung is the closest thing to a boyfriend Wonwoo’s ever had. He’s certainly the best friend Wonwoo has ever had, and those things alone make Wonwoo realize that he can’t mess this up. Even if he isn’t here much longer, there is a point to all of this—he just has to remember that.

“If it goes well, let’s say it is.” Funny that Soonyoung says this just before the server brings their bill—as if it would have gone any other way.

 

_              {“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”} _

Finals roll around. Not quite finals—the strange purgatory that comes before them, when needlessly lengthy research papers are due, and final presentations must be… well, presented. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, being sophomores, are no strangers to this—they are, however, strangers to studying with other people. Soonyoung stopped a bit into freshman year when he accidentally ended up in a study group with a bunch of standoffish sorority girls. Never again, he tells Wonwoo. Never again.

With each other, it turns out to be both more productive and less productive than studying alone, with the precise moment being significantly less productive, characterized by Soonyoung hanging upside down from the couch in Wonwoo’s floor’s lounge. Wonwoo’s rubbing at his temples, and Soonyoung is twirling his wrists, sore from rewriting notes. They’ve been at this for hours.

Maybe Wonwoo is too tired, or maybe he’s anxious. Either way, he lets out a shaky sigh, followed by an unintentional whimper. There’s way too much on his mind, even aside from finals. It makes Soonyoung pout, quickly clambering over to the loveseat Wonwoo’s on to lean against him. That always seems to work towards making Wonwoo feel better.

“What’s up?” Soonyoung asks. Wonwoo would say he wants to die, but that’s beside the point—he knows what Soonyoung’s getting at. He knows that Soonyoung can tell, at the very least, that Wonwoo is worrying over more than just his exams.

“Can I be real for a second?”

“Always,” Soonyoung says, slinking an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders.

“I worry about, like…” Wonwoo tries to lighten up. He laughs at himself a bit, placing his laptop aside and throwing his head back. The movement turns into a yawn. It takes him a moment to regain his train of thought, but Soonyoung listens patiently nonetheless. “Like, losing you? It sounds dramatic, I don’t really know how else to phrase it, but…”

“Why?” Soonyoung leans forward to look into Wonwoo’s eyes. He’s smiling, too, but his tone is serious. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean. I worry that something will happen—something will happen, and I’ll have to leave.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung breathes, drawn out and empathetic, “it’s ’cause you moved so much when you were younger, right?” Wonwoo nods. He sometimes forgets he’s practically unloaded his entire life story onto Soonyoung. It makes his chest hurt realizing that he remembers every bit of it. “If it’s in the past, you shouldn’t worry about it. You chose to go to college here, and you’re an adult—you can choose to stay here, too.”

Wonwoo really wishes it was that simple. It’s never been about what he wants. Soonyoung is rubbing his back now, pulling him closer, and Wonwoo still can’t bring himself to speak on it any further. Because say Wonwoo listens to his mother—say he does transfer to be closer to his family. How is Soonyoung supposed to feel then? If Wonwoo knew someone wasn’t going to be around in a matter of months, he’s not sure if he’d want to stay close to them. Even if it was Soonyoung. He’s been through this enough to know that’s just not realistic.

Soonyoung seems to realize, pretty quickly, that he can only do so much, at least right now. Wonwoo bites his lip slightly, his eyes unfocused and shoulders slouched. He can tell even without looking how Soonyoung’s face looks; it’s disappointed, at nothing in particular, just the situation. Perhaps himself. It’s unfair—Soonyoung shouldn’t expect himself to understand. He seems to think for a moment, before moving to stand up.

“Wonwoo,” He says, stood right in front of him, “look at me.”

Wonwoo directs his gaze upwards. He meets Soonyoung, with this determined glare plastered all over his face, and a hand extended outward. Wonwoo takes it by instinct.

“I’m scared,” He mutters jokingly. Whatever is about to happen probably isn’t a good idea.

“We’re getting Slurpees.”

As sullen as Wonwoo is, they do sound good—he can’t deny that. It might be a good way for Wonwoo to reward himself for getting halfway through this paper. And he supposes that if Soonyoung understands anything about him, it’s his affinity for Piña Colada. He does have some qualms, though.

He shakes his head. “Soonyoung, it’s December.”

———

It’s completely dark save for one streetlamp, hanging right above them, and the traffic lights lining the crosswalk before them. Wonwoo hasn’t taken a sip of his Slurpee since they were inside. It’s so cold—he’s afraid his tongue will freeze and fall off if he tries to drink it now. He can see his breath. His gloves are much too thin to be holding a frozen drink, too. Soonyoung seems to take pity on him.

Wordlessly, Soonyoung manages to balance his own Slurpee upright in his coat pocket, the snow then crunching a bit beneath his boots when he shifts towards Wonwoo. He watches him—with his gigantic, fluffy mittens—curl his hands around each of Wonwoo’s, rubbing them slightly to warm them. At least in this weather, you don’t have to worry about the Slurpee melting.

Even in the dim light of the streetlamp, Wonwoo can see Soonyoung’s face. His cheeks are round and red and shiny, and his eyes are upturned crescent moons. He scrunches his nose up terribly. Wonwoo returns it, involuntarily. There’s something Soonyoung does to him that makes the cold more bearable, and while it’s now how he moves his mittens up to Wonwoo’s face to cup it, Wonwoo sure does feel especially warm from the neck up.

Looking into Soonyoung’s eyes isn’t scary and never has been, but Wonwoo’s heart is racing, for a reason he can’t really explain. He briefly tries to convince himself that finals are giving him a panic attack, but he shuts it down when he notices that he feels overwhelmingly safe, like nothing can harm him as long as Soonyoung is as close as he is. And he is so, so close, all of the sudden—Wonwoo gulps.

There is a moment where Soonyoung’s smile dissipates and his lips part, his neck craning forward and up, where Wonwoo watches with wide eyes, and feels overwhelmingly like he is going to vomit. His first instinct is to hold onto him, but he’d drop his Slurpee if he did that—so he just stands there, completely still, when Soonyoung kisses him for the first time.

He realizes, immediately, that Soonyoung tastes like red Slurpee. Then, Wonwoo realizes that this might’ve been what he wanted all along. And maybe it wasn’t at a crosswalk, and maybe Wonwoo wasn’t holding a Slurpee like a fucking idiot, but this—kissing Soonyoung—is what he wanted ever since he saw him feeding ducks in those godforsaken Tigger pajama pants. He almost feels stupid for not noticing sooner. He does note, among all of this, that this means he is absolutely screwed, but that notion comes and goes—then, finally, just goes. Soonyoung eventually pulls away, rather unceremoniously, with a sheepish grin upon realizing that the crosswalk light has changed.

They were actually out of Piña Colada today, but Wonwoo can’t find it in himself to be bothered.

———

They finished the second chapter of  _ The House at Pooh Corner _ today—the day before Soonyoung’s last final. Wonwoo’s own isn’t for a few days, so he’s able to stay over at Soonyoung’s dorm to help him pack up to go home, as well as spend time with him before winter break. Wonwoo could’ve pictured this happening a few weeks ago. Soonyoung is tidying his room and Wonwoo is sat on his desk—for once, everything is in its proper drawer, so there’s plenty of room for him, as long as his lanky legs dangle off the edge. Wonwoo’s eyes follow Soonyoung as he paces around, and he thinks it’s unfortunate that things are the way they are; that’s what he couldn’t have imagined about this day, up until a few nights ago.

Soonyoung kissed him, and though it hasn’t happened since, Wonwoo is glaringly aware of how badly he wants to do it again, and that Soonyoung probably does, too. Wonwoo hasn’t felt this way about anyone before, and it’s frightening, because every fluttering feeling in his chest somehow twists into dread when he realizes that Soonyoung doesn’t know that Wonwoo might not be around much longer—dread that only worsens when Wonwoo realizes that he is the only person who can tell Soonyoung this, and that Soonyoung deserves to know more than anyone.

He’s been trying to find a good time to interrupt Soonyoung, but he’s starting to believe that there isn’t a good time, and that there will never be. He’s dancing while he sorts through old papers from earlier in the semester, whistling when he tosses them away. The music is definitely quiet enough to talk over, but still feels too loud to Wonwoo. Soonyoung is laughing to himself now, a gentle murmur that somehow manages to fill the room.

“Look at this,” he says, showing Wonwoo a crude scribble he drew on the back of one of his quizzes—it’s from September. It was before they even met. It feels like it’s been ages, but it couldn’t have been more than three months ago. Soonyoung and Wonwoo look up from the paper at the same time, and Soonyoung looks right into his eyes.

Wonwoo feels so guilty, and Soonyoung can tell, apparently. He furrows his brow in confusion, placing the paper beside Wonwoo on the desk and placing a hand on his knee.

“Soonyoung, I have to tell you something,” Wonwoo breathes. There’s no going back now, he supposes. “You know what I told you the other day? When we were studying?” Soonyoung seems to think for a moment before nodding confidently. Wonwoo’s afraid his lip will start bleeding if he keeps gnawing at it. “And you asked if it was because my family moved around a lot, and I said yes?”

Soonyoung laughs nervously. “Where are you going with this?”

“Just—um…” God, this is so hard. Wonwoo inhales—deeply, knowing that the only way he’ll be able to get this out is in one breath. “In, like, the first few weeks of the semester, my mom told me that my family’s moving again, and she wanted me to transfer to be closer to them.”

It’s out there. Wonwoo can’t look Soonyoung in the eye anymore, so he opts instead to draw his attention to his lap. Soonyoung’s hand is still there, and Wonwoo reaches for it, curling a finger around Soonyoung’s pinky.

“Oh.” Soonyoung’s voice is hardly audible, and it’s trembling. Wonwoo goes to squeeze Soonyoung’s hand, but it’s already curled into a fist. This conversation again—Wonwoo feels stupid. He promised himself he’d never have to do this again. He thinks Soonyoung might be crying. “Really?”

Wonwoo swallows. “Really.”

He pulls away then, very suddenly, to dab at his tears with the back of his hand. Wonwoo makes the mistake of looking at him again—it hurts, literally. His chest aches.

Soonyoung is sniffling, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay. Please don’t be sad. I still have to make a decision, but I thought you needed to know…” Wonwoo is never the type to ramble in situations like this, but something makes him feel like he has to. “And I completely understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, or if you don’t want to… like… we kissed and stuff, and I’m just not sure if you’d want to be involved if I do end up transferring, and—”

“Wonwoo, stop.” Soonyoung shakes his head fervently. Wonwoo could say so much more, but he purses his lips, waits for Soonyoung to continue. “It’s a lot, but… how do I say this…”

The song changes. It’s some upbeat pop song that Soonyoung likes, and it’s completely inappropriate for the conversation they’re having—but it gives Soonyoung time to focus on composing himself. Wonwoo hopes that this song doesn’t remind him of this from now on.

It gets to about the second chorus before Soonyoung continues, and at this point, he’s back between Wonwoo’s legs, staring into his eyes, with both hands now on Wonwoo’s knees. He laughs. It’s uncalled for, and rather helpless and small, but Wonwoo appreciates it nonetheless. Wonwoo relaxes a bit.

“I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend, like, for real. Tonight or tomorrow morning.” Soonyoung looks down, smiling softly. “And my first thought wasn’t that I didn’t want to anymore, it was like, ‘shit, then I  _ really _ have to ask him tonight, then.’”

“Oh.” When Wonwoo started speaking in the first place, he was honestly ready for Soonyoung to never want to speak to him again—well, not ready, per se, but he did wonder if it would happen. And this is just so different than anything he’d expect—different from any other reaction he’s received concerning this sort of thing. “Are you sure?”

“Totally sure.” He whimpers, unintentionally, and Wonwoo pats his hand to encourage him. “And then my second thought was, “shit, is he still gonna say yes?’” He chuckles again, less garbled this time. His lower lip has stilled.

Wonwoo isn’t sure if this is a good time to tease him, but everything seems to be going fine so far—it’s the best he can think to do to cheer Soonyoung up. “Assuming I’d be saying yes.”

“Stop it,” Soonyoung whines, lowering his fist down onto Wonwoo’s bony thigh, before collapsing into his chest.

Wonwoo holds Soonyoung, loosely, so he can rub at the small of his back. “We’re practically already…”

“Yeah, I know.” Soonyoung takes a deep breath. “That’s why, like, whatever happens, we’ll figure something out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo, for once, is confident in agreeing to that.

There is a moment where it’s completely silent, between two songs, where all that can be heard is Soonyoung’s breath evening out and Wonwoo’s hand smoothing over the fabric of his shirt. It sounds cliché, but it feels like time’s stopped, and Wonwoo and Soonyoung are caught up in it, if only for a moment. Over anything else, it feels like Wonwoo isn’t alone in this—and that, given the chance that they are separated, he won’t be alone then, either.

It isn’t too long before Soonyoung returns to his sorting. This time, Wonwoo is the one who’s dancing. And it might be because he’s trying to cheer up Soonyoung, or because he’s happy, but either way, Soonyoung is smiling. Wonwoo thinks that’s all that matters, at least at this present moment. It’s a while more before Soonyoung speaks again.

“Wonwoo,” he says, residual worry evident in his voice, “you’d say yes, though, right?”

Wonwoo can’t help but laugh—he didn’t realize that was still up for debate.

“Of course,” he assures, “I  _ am _ saying yes.”

 

_              {“Sometimes the smallest things take the most room in your heart.”} _

Wonwoo can only stare at the ceiling for so long until he begins to miss Soonyoung. His bed at home has a better mattress then his dorm, but somehow, feels empty and cold. Reasonably, it’s only been a week that they’ve been apart, but it’s also only been three weeks since they kissed at the crosswalk, and Wonwoo’s starting to feel like he didn’t kiss Soonyoung nearly enough in the time between then and when they both went home.

Aside from kisses, there are only so many memories you can make in the span of a (roughly) fifteen-week semester, and once they are memories, nothing becomes of them—save for what you can remember.

———

Wonwoo hadn’t seen Jeonghan or Jihoon for a while when Jeonghan invited the two of them to a program he was hosting in his hall—some kind of mock paint and pour, with sparkling cider instead of wine. Soonyoung had something else to do that night—Wonwoo can’t completely remember what.

“What’s he like?” Jihoon asked, scowling at his sheer inability to paint a rose without it looking like a red cabbage. “What does he do besides feed ducks?”

“He’s cool,” Wonwoo said plainly. Then, he heard Jeonghan scoff, and proceeded to peer over his canvas and across the room.

“Just cool?” Jeonghan smiled and pointed his paintbrush menacingly in Wonwoo’s direction. “Dude, every time I see you around campus you’re with him.”

Wonwoo smiled to himself. Jihoon might’ve too, if he hadn’t been so intently focused on aggressively stirring the paint water with the wrong end of his brush. While sipping cider from his styrofoam cup, Wonwoo thought that it might not hurt to get closer to Jeonghan and Jihoon, if getting close to Soonyoung had been so pleasant thus far. Maybe there was no harm in keeping friends after all.

“Really cool,” Wonwoo’d said, with a broad smile and a voice dripping with sarcasm, “much cooler than you assholes.”

———

Soonyoung held Wonwoo’s hand, once. Multiple times, eventually, but this was before then—it was the first time Soonyoung held Wonwoo’s hand. Wonwoo doesn’t have a day for this particular occasion, but he does know that Soonyoung was in the midst of reading  _ Winnie-the-Pooh _ , specifically the chapter where Eeyore lost his tail. Soonyoung had the book laid in his lap, as per usual, and one arm resting in the dip between he and Wonwoo’s thighs.

“Through them and between them the sun shone bravely, and a copse which had worn its firs all the year round seemed old and dowdy now beside the new green lace which the beeches had put on so prettily…”

Wonwoo, at this point, made note of how he can’t get enough of Soonyoung’s speaking voice—it’s slow and tender and soft, and has always made Wonwoo think it’s best suited to read books aloud.

“…Through copse and spinney marched Bear; down open slopes of gorse and heather, over rocky beds of streams, up steep banks of sandstone into the heather again…”

Soonyoung did it subconsciously, or at least wanted it to seem that way. His fingers were soft, and urged themselves ever so gently between Wonwoo’s. It felt natural—grossly domestic.

“…and so at last, tired and hungry, to the Hundred Acre Wood. For it was in the Hundred Acre Wood that Owl lived.”

He’d given Wonwoo one soft—but lasting, and very purposeful—squeeze.

(And then, he’d pulled away to turn the page. Poor timing on Soonyoung’s part, Wonwoo supposes.)

———

They were sat at a run-down picnic table overlooking the pond, drinking coffee and regretting not bringing sunglasses. The sun always sets right behind the student center, and on this particular day, it was unbearably bright, but useless as far as warmth was concerned. It was nearly Thanksgiving.

“Are you going home this weekend?” Soonyoung asked. Wonwoo remembers huffing, and for the first time in a while, dreading the prospect of being alone.

“Nah, I can’t. My parents are too busy.”

“Aw, Wonwoo…” He had frowned and rubbed Wonwoo’s shoulder earnestly, allowing a short pause between the two them. Wonwoo had admittedly expected more reassurance from him, so he was reasonably confused when Soonyoung immediately took out his phone and started texting.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said, “just texted my sister to cancel my ride home.”

That shit-eating grin. Wonwoo wanted to punch him, or hug him, or both.

The turkey at Seokmin’s Friendsgiving was horribly overcooked, but Soonyoung and Wonwoo played footsie under the table, so it wasn’t so bad.

———

The bus system around campus isn’t very good, but it’s good enough to get Soonyoung and Wonwoo to the grocery store. It might be the shitty, decrepit one, but it’s a grocery store. It has snacks. Snacks and cold medicine.

Soonyoung caught his first cold of the semester in early December, and he was a complete baby about it—Wonwoo wondered if he was like that always, or only when he had someone at his beck and call. Wonwoo didn’t mind either way. He did, however, make Soonyoung come with him to the store.

In his feverishness, Soonyoung had forgotten his wallet. And Soonyoung didn’t know this, but Wonwoo had planned on paying anyway; not just for the cold medicine, but for the Doritos, and the sour gummy worms, and the teddy grahams…

Soonyoung obviously felt bad, and he even more obviously was too sick to process it, so his lower lip starting wiggling when Wonwoo went to check out. Wonwoo didn’t know what else to do but laugh helplessly, shush him, and pull him into a quick hug. It really wasn’t anything to shed tears about—the poor thing.

“Thank you,” He whispered, with his head buried in Wonwoo’s shoulder.

———

Soonyoung was leaving for winter break first, and in proper boyfriend fashion, Wonwoo tagged along beside him until the last possible minute, going as far as helping him carry his things to the lobby.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Soonyoung said, with that bright smile—how are Soonyoung’s teeth cute too, by the way?

“See you in two weeks.” Wonwoo had a bit of a dilemma upon realizing there were other people in the lobby. But, you know—Wonwoo really wanted to kiss him goodbye. And the longing look in Soonyoung’s eyes as he walked out said he did, too.

It was Wonwoo who chased after him, moments after he left, to kiss him on the curb outside his dormitory. And it was Soonyoung who slipped, falling butt-first into the snowbank beside him.

 

_              {“Some people care too much. I think it's called love.”} _

The library is an excellent place to focus, whether it’s on homework or major life decisions, which makes going there absolutely dreadful, at least in Wonwoo’s opinion—he can’t go to the second-floor study lounge without having borderline war flashbacks, the metaphorical war being selling his soul to a paper or a final project. It’s stressful, but it’s the best place to get things done, or at least sit around until he feels bad that he hasn’t gotten anything done.

Before returning to school, Wonwoo’s mother encouraged him to apply for colleges on the west coast—closer to where they’d be moving. And maybe, under different circumstances, reading up about new and interesting campuses and programs would be fun—Wonwoo remembers having enjoyed this kind of thing in his senior year of high school—but under this particular circumstance, it just sucks to think about. Sat in the computer lounge, alone save for a napping graduate student, he applies to a measly two schools before he feels like leaving.

So he leaves. From what he’s collected, they’re both pretty lenient with transfers, and considering Wonwoo’s at a good academic standing, he should get into both. He just isn’t sure if he  _ wants _ to. Perhaps it’ll get easier to think about. Thing is, Wonwoo doesn’t see that happening anytime soon, either.

It’s not too chilly out today, so Wonwoo feels a bit overdressed in his parka. Self-consciously, he scans the area, tallying the people who have boots and coats on—it’s not too many, which is surprising, considering how oddly warm it is for February. Just yesterday, Wonwoo was cold in this same parka.

Wonwoo does spot someone, though. He’s being eaten alive by this gigantic, black padded coat, and if Wonwoo’s hunch is correct, it’s Jihoon. He calls his name, rather boldly.

It is Jihoon. He stops in his tracks and turns around to walk beside Wonwoo, taking out his headphones and grinning slightly. It’s then that he realizes that Jihoon is also wearing Adidas slides with no socks—Wonwoo’s toes go numb just looking at them.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Jihoon says, running a hand through his own bangs, “coming from the library, huh? What were you up to?”

“Applying to some schools.” Jihoon shoots a look at Wonwoo—a confused look that makes the gears in Wonwoo’s head turn for a moment before realizing what it’s for. “Oh, that’s right, I don’t think I’ve told you yet. I might be transferring next semester—like, out of state.”

Confusion turns to shock—gentle shock, nothing like how Soonyoung reacted. For that, Wonwoo is grateful. “No shit?” Jihoon must be able to tell Wonwoo’s a bit troubled over it. He reaches over to rub his shoulder briefly. Anyone who knows Jihoon knows how scarcely he does things like that. “You seem to like it here, though. And I thought you were dating Duck Boy—Soonyoung, I mean. What gives?”

Wonwoo’s face scrunches up. “My family’s moving to the west coast, so.”

“Ahh.” Jihoon nods, somewhat mournful. They’ve arrived at the student center at this point, and Jihoon holds the door for Wonwoo. “So it’s not up to you?”

“It is, I guess.”  _ I guess _ kind of describes how Wonwoo feels about this whole thing. “Just doesn’t feel like it.”

“That’s tough, man.” They’re passing the food court attached to the lower level’s lounge, and Jihoon slows his pace a bit. “You wanna eat with me? Knowing you, you’ve probably been cooped up in the library for a couple hours at least.”

Wonwoo was honestly a bit anxious to get back to his dorm, since he has plans with Soonyoung in an hour or so. But he figures he has time—and he is actually pretty hungry. Not to mention, he hasn’t hung out with Jihoon in a hot second, and hasn’t heard about what’s going on with him since the conversation started.

They chat idly in line at the mock-Chipotle-Qdoba place that Jihoon’s obsessed with, and Wonwoo sighs heavily when they sit down to eat. He’s really about to take out his frustrations on this burrito—but, before he does, he glances at Jihoon from across the table.

He takes a grotesquely large bite of his burrito. “About the transfer thing, though—” he says, promptly wiping his mouth with a napkin, “up to you or not, it kinda seems like you’ve already made a decision.”

Wonwoo supposes he’s known this, but it’s different to hear out loud. He thinks he’s lost his appetite.

———

Though he’s never had his laundry stolen or even touched by anyone else in his hall, Wonwoo still insists on watching it the entire time it’s being washed and dried—typically, this gives him an hour and a half to do homework, but today, he doesn’t have anything to work on. So Soonyoung follows him to the laundry room. They have the TV turned on, but they aren’t really watching it. They’re just sitting on a counter together, and Soonyoung is talking about his friends from high school—from what it seems, Soonyoung partied a lot more back then. He’s talking about this time he got really high, and he and his friends got kicked out of a Bed Bath & Beyond. There’s a lot more to it, but Wonwoo’s kind of lost track.

“I miss them,” Soonyoung says finally, “we haven’t talked in forever.”

This makes Wonwoo think. Wonwoo doesn’t talk to any of his old friends, simply because he’s moved so far away from each of them so consistently—but Soonyoung lived in the same town for his whole life before going to college, and he goes back home often enough. Wonwoo wonders what happened, if anything. He wonders how much Soonyoung has forgotten about them.

“Why haven’t you?”

“I think we just outgrew each other,” Soonyoung says earnestly, “but also, I’m here all the time now—a lot of them chose to go to community college, so we’re further away… and…” He seems to see how topical this is, now. He lets out an uneasy sigh.

Wonwoo isn’t anxious, just curious; Soonyoung seems to be able to sense that. “If I ended up transferring…”

“I would do everything I can. But even if something happened…”

“Would you forget about me?” It’s a serious question, but Wonwoo is smirking when he says it, as if he’s expecting a specific answer. He isn’t—he’s just trying to keep things lighthearted. Soonyoung thinks again, playing idly with Wonwoo’s fingers, kissing one of his knuckles before deciding on an answer.

“It’s like…” Soonyoung waves his hands around vaguely before settling for resting them in his lap. “I don’t forget about the ducks when they go south for the winter, you know?”

Wonwoo’s not feeling particularly mushy today. He’s in a good place right now, so when Soonyoung tells him this, he isn’t deeply affected or even phased by it at first. If anything, the fact that it’s somehow both not at all what he expected to hear and everything he needed to makes him wonder if Soonyoung even meant anything by it at all. Maybe it was unintentional—such a simple thing to say, but yet it provides Wonwoo with everything he could ask for.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” In this moment, with his arm now curling around Soonyoung’s waist, Wonwoo has made up his mind. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

———

Wonwoo never anticipated himself to be the kind of person to revel in domestic things—he never pictured himself to be the type who’s comfortable peeing or showering with his significant other in the bathroom, but here he is, rinsing off for one last time while Soonyoung brushes his teeth in the mirror just beyond the curtain. He pops his head out just when Soonyoung is smiling broadly at himself, mouth full of foam—Wonwoo laughs at him unabashedly and reaches for the nearest towel to dry off and cover himself. His dorm bathroom is tiny, and it’s even more evident when Wonwoo steps out of the shower. There’s just enough room for the both of them.

Soonyoung spits, gargles, and bares his teeth in the mirror one more time before drawing his attention to Wonwoo. The towel is around his waist now. Soonyoung gives him a disproving look.

“You didn’t even dry your hair off,” He scolds, jabbing him straight in the belly button. Wonwoo winces.

“I did, though?” He says this as water drips down his face in fat droplets, nearly falling into his eyes. He usually doesn’t bother with towel-drying his hair—just reaches straight for the blow dryer.

Soonyoung shakes his head. “You totally didn’t. Here—” He cuts himself off to glance around the room to find another towel, fail, and settle for the one around his own shoulders. It’s still relatively dry.

Wonwoo is kind of clueless. He didn’t realize that Soonyoung was really about to dry his hair for him until his eyes were completely covered, Soonyoung’s hands rubbing aggressively on either side of his head, ruffling all of it from his bangs to the short hairs at his nape. It makes Wonwoo turn to mush, Soonyoung mirroring his staccato laughter.

“Soonyoung—” he pleads finally, “it’s dry, it’s dry, it’s dry—”

He stops, rather abruptly, and drapes the towel around Wonwoo’s neck as it had been around his own before. Something about seeing Soonyoung like this overwhelms him—his swollen morning face, his damp hair, the toothpaste at the corners of his mouth, even the zits he obviously just popped. It’s amazing that he feels so comfortable being so vulnerable, especially around Wonwoo. It’s an honor—to know Soonyoung like this. To know Soonyoung at all, really. To love Soonyoung.

Wonwoo runs a hand through his hair. “Soonyoung,” he says again, with reverence. His cheeks hurt from smiling. “I love you, you know.”

The shock on Soonyoung’s face is only momentary, because even without saying, Wonwoo can tell that he knows. His face is completely red, all the way up to his ears, and both of them know it isn’t the steam from the shower. He hits Wonwoo square in the chest, and it makes this terrible, wet, skin-to-skin slapping noise—if they’re sharing a moment, then that sound was  _ this _ close to ruining it. But Soonyoung’s hand stays there when he leans in to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s mouth, then his cheek, then his nose, and it’s the only thing that matters—he sighs affectionately upon stepping back.

“I love you too, you soggy loser.”

———

What a coincidence that Wonwoo hears back from both of the colleges he applied to on the same day—what a terrible, horrible, coincidence. He’s waited until Soonyoung dozed off to go through the pamphlets that were sent to him, but the notion of even thumbing through them instills fear in him. Not even fear around moving—he’s pretty sure he’s decided, but he won’t really know until he tells his mother. He might be an adult by age, but he’s not quite adult enough to be free of the pressures of familial obligation. Well, he doesn’t think so, at least.

Soonyoung is snoring softly on the other side of the bed as Wonwoo snaps pictures of the acceptance letters, sending them off to his mother and hoping she isn’t awake. It’s not that late yet, though—about ten o’ clock. Wonwoo realizes this too late, as he receives a reply almost immediately.

She congratulates him, with two party popper emojis, then asks if he’s made a decision yet. Wonwoo is really not about to tell her over text. Even if he were to call her, he’s not sure he’d be able to form words. He’s got a death grip on his phone. He forces himself to breathe.

Then, Soonyoung stirs in his sleep, sitting up with his eyes half-open and looking around before finding Wonwoo. All the weight returns to his body and he collapses back onto the bed, this time inching towards Wonwoo, completely unaware of the paper strewn amongst the blanket. They crinkle below him, but he pays no mind, and goes back to snoring in seconds. Wonwoo’s hand finds itself carding through his mussed up-locks, smoothing them down. Wonwoo sighs, so lovingly that even he feels like cringing.

He tells his mother he’ll have an answer next Friday and promptly calls it a night, leaning over to turn off his desk lamp and cuddling closer to Soonyoung, kicking all of the pamphlets and envelopes to the foot of the bed.

 

_              {“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”} _

Soonyoung’s roommate, Seokmin, is not in a frat—his friend Mingyu, however,  _ is _ in a frat, and the president of that frat happens to be Seungcheol, who is a friend of Jeonghan. Small world, Wonwoo supposes. Small campus. And it’s Mingyu’s birthday party, which apparently means it’s going to be “a banger,” according to Soonyoung. And, according to Seokmin, they have a cat.

Essentially, what Wonwoo’s trying to say is this: if he was to go to a frat party just once, this would be the one, and Soonyoung has done an awfully good job of convincing him. Soonyoung himself doesn’t go to parties very often, but he’s been wanting to get drunk recently, as a sort of last hurrah before the end of the semester. Wonwoo wonders if Soonyoung feels stupid standing at the door of this decrepit frat house, too. Because he sure does. He doesn’t even want to get drunk—he just wants to watch Soonyoung be cute and social, and maybe pet a cat, too.

Seungcheol opens the door and their surroundings are immediately five times louder—Wonwoo can hardly even hear what he’s saying to Soonyoung over the music, but he’s stepping away from the door to hold it open, and then they’re going inside.

It smells like shitty beer and sweat, but Wonwoo is mostly unbothered, at least for the time being. He can see Jeonghan in the kitchen, and Seokmin playing beer pong with the birthday boy, who looks two drinks away from blacking out. It’s hardly past midnight. Wonwoo laughs to himself, unconsciously following Soonyoung over to Seokmin, who looks happy to see him. Wonwoo’s ears have adjusted better to the bass now—or maybe Seokmin just talks louder. He sure does smile awfully big.

“Soonyoung, you’re late,” he scolds, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “you’re too sober, man, did you pregame at all?”

“Nah, Wonwoo and I were napping.” That’s true—they were, and Wonwoo is already sleepy again. Seokmin seems to realize Wonwoo’s presence in this moment, because he reaches over to grab his shoulder roughly

“You guys are cute,” He coos before whipping his head around to look at Mingyu. Wonwoo knows nothing about the mechanics of beer pong, but he can tell Mingyu’s not doing a very good job—nearly everyone at the table is laughing at him. Seokmin laughs, too. “Come say hi to my roommate, birthday boy!”

Mingyu stumbles over, and Soonyoung is telling him “long time no see” and “happy birthday, bro,” but Wonwoo’s not sure if they’ve actually met before. Wonwoo takes this as his cue to wander off, after making eye contact with Soonyoung and giving him an acknowledging glance.

He heads to the kitchen to grab a drink first—Jeonghan’s still there, but he’s having a very heated conversation with someone, so he doesn’t stop to chat. He ends up just pouring a ton of Smirnoff into blue Gatorade and stepping out. He’s sipping it as he mulls around, and it’s definitely too strong, but he has other things on his mind.

Wonwoo eventually makes direct eye contact with two glowing eyes at the top of the staircase. How perfect—it looks darker and quieter up there, too, like Wonwoo could just sit and drink and watch what goes on below. And pet a cat. He plops down at the top step, stroking the cat’s head idly, keeping his red solo cup close at his side.

He’s not sure how long he pets the cat before his phone vibrates in his pocket, but he knows by then that his drink is definitely too strong. His screen’s all blurry. He can at least tell he’s receiving a call, and he can manage to pick it up.

“Hey, Wonwoo.” Oh, jeez. Wonwoo swears he can feel himself sober up.

“Mom, hey—what’s up? Why’re you calling so late?”

“I’ve been packing all night, I didn’t even realize what day it was. I wanted to talk to you.” She pauses for a moment. “Where are you? It’s so loud on your end—"

Wonwoo takes a sip of his drink and fervently disregards her question. “What? What day is it?”

“Friday,” she says, “you told me you’d have an answer for me by today.”

Did he say that? Wonwoo supposes he did—it’s hard to pinpoint when he’s already made up his mind. He’s finding it difficult to say anything even when he’s inebriated. He holds and “uh” at a solid pitch for at least ten whole seconds, sighs, and starts talking.

“I think—” No, no. He has to be firm. He tries again. “I’m going to come back here next semester, I th—I’ve decided. I already signed up for classes and stuff, so. And—uh…” Wonwoo had taken his hand off the cat, who is now meowing for attention. He silently thanks it for distracting him.

His mother is quiet for a moment. Though, if Wonwoo knew better, he’d say she honestly already knew what he was going to say. Telling her about Soonyoung last week was a little obvious, in hindsight. She hums. “I figured you’d stay. It’s not what I want, but the end of the day, you’re an adult, too Wonwoo. I have to support you no matter what you do. I’m your mom, you know.”

Wonwoo expected so much worse. He’s not entirely sure why—on top of that, he feels like crying, or something. “I know,” he says quietly, “thanks, Mom. Tell Dad and Bohyuk I miss them.”

“Letting me go already? Are you busy?”

“Yeah, studying for finals.”

“At a party?” Wonwoo laughs to himself, and his mother laughs too, warm and comforting. He should’ve known her to be able to read him like this.

He rubs his neck absentmindedly, a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, totally.”

“Well, get some sleep tonight, alright?” She exhales shallowly. “And let me know when your last final is so we know when to get you a flight home for the summer.”

“I will, I will.”

Wonwoo hangs up, staring momentarily into the cat’s eyes, then back down at the party. He feels like he’s astral projecting. In the midst of zoning out, he spots Soonyoung threading himself through a mob of people, then treading up the stairs, then smiling right at him.

Soonyoung tugs at his wrists to get him to stand. Wonwoo does so, carefully, especially because Soonyoung is very obviously drunk, too. Definitely drunker than Wonwoo.

“I just did four shots,” he announces, the volume of his voice still adjusted to the noise level downstairs, “let’s go eat some cold pizza.”

Wonwoo leaves the rest of his drink at the top of the stairs, as he is promptly and urgently being dragged down into the horde of frat boys below. The cat seems to eye the solo cup for a moment before giving Wonwoo one last glance, blinking slowly, once, twice, then winking.

———

They only stay at the party for an hour or so after that—Soonyoung has always said he wasn’t a big fan of frat parties, anyway, and Wonwoo himself wasn’t thrilled about it in the first place. But hey, he tried it, and now he and Soonyoung are practically hanging off each other on the walk back to Wonwoo’s dorm. They were more drunk earlier, but they haven’t quite sobered up yet, and Soonyoung has been begging for a kiss every ten steps. Wonwoo takes absolutely no issue with complying.

They’ve made it to the hallway Wonwoo’s room is in, and Wonwoo really thinks Soonyoung might pin him against his door and make out with him, because  _ God, _ he really just won’t stop kissing at Wonwoo’s neck while he’s fumbling in his pocket for his keys. Wonwoo’s trying to will away a boner, and it’s not really working—at this point, he thinks that’s probably Soonyoung’s goal. He finally opens the door, hardly able to toss his phone and keys onto his desk before Soonyoung is pulling him onto his bed, immediately latching onto his neck again. This time he’s sucking on it, then licking over the reddened skin, nuzzling his nose beside Wonwoo’s ear. Wonwoo sighs, his heart thrumming intensely in his chest, and his eyes drooping shut on their own accord.

“How drunk are you?” Soonyoung checks, earning a breathy laugh from Wonwoo—it’s cut off by a soft moan when Soonyoung grinds down onto him.

“Not,” Wonwoo mutters, “I’m not that drunk, just, like. Please keep going.” The last part is a whisper, gravelly and low. Soonyoung smiles dumbly and pecks at Wonwoo’s lips before pulling away to tug his shirt off.

“Okay, good. Me either.” He’s moving down Wonwoo’s torso now, and Wonwoo’s hands are moving up Soonyoung’s hipbones, and he is so, so perfect.

As Soonyoung goes to unbutton his pants, Wonwoo wonders why they haven’t done this sooner.

———

There’s something about waking up pressed against Soonyoung, clad only in boxers, that makes Wonwoo feel complete, or at the very least, introspective. His chest is thrumming and his head is swimming, and he’s not sure what part of last night is making him feel that way—the alcohol, the sex, or the phone call.

Oh, the phone call.

Wonwoo figures that means things are official now—he’s told everyone he needs to tell except for Soonyoung, and as relieved as he is at the fact that it’s good news he’s telling him—not bad—it’s still a lot to unload, emotionally. But as far as Wonwoo’s concerned, he’s come to learn that there’s no time like the present.

“Good morning,” Soonyoung murmurs. He reaches back to pat Wonwoo’s side, stretching a bit and putting down his phone. He must’ve woken up a bit earlier.

“Morning.”

“You feeling okay?” In his thoughts, Wonwoo doesn’t hear this question, though he supposes his reply is topical.

“I, um, forgot to tell you something last night.” He brings this up casually as if there would ever be a situation where it’s not a big deal. Wonwoo is very purposeful in the way he’s holding Soonyoung from behind, so he can’t see Wonwoo’s face contort between an anxious grimace and a close-lipped smile, over and over again. “I’m, um, not moving with my family. My mom called at the party.”

“You’re not? What about your… you applied to a couple schools over there, though, right? Did you not get in? Did you—” Soonyoung’s less frantic at first than Wonwoo thought he’d be. He tries to crane his neck over his shoulder, but fails, or maybe gives up in favor of Wonwoo keeping his arms around his waist.

“No, I did. I just don’t want to go. Cause, you know… I’ll be able to see my family during longer breaks. It’ll be harder, but I still can.” He swallows. “It’s just—you’re here _ , _ so…” It sounds ridiculous when Wonwoo says it out loud. He’s put so much faith into Soonyoung in such a short amount of time, and it used to scare him, but it’s become the only thing that makes him so consistently happy.

He thinks it’s funny that in high school, he was always told that he shouldn’t pick a school based on where his friends were going, but no one ever warned him that he’d have to mull over that same advice halfway through college, too. It’s the same problem, but so different now. A part of Wonwoo thinks he’s doing this out of desperation—because he’s left too many people before—but another part of him thinks he’s doing it out of love. He’s leaning towards the latter. He sighs, shallow and shaky, into Soonyoung’s hair. There is nobody else he would do this for.

There’s a wash of silence that Wonwoo doesn’t expect, and it puts this strange pressure on his chest. It isn’t heavy, but it makes him swallow nonetheless. Soonyoung pulls away from Wonwoo a bit, careful and steady, to look him in the eye.

“You’re staying for me?” He asks in a whisper, sitting up in bed. Wonwoo suddenly thinks he didn’t think this conversation through enough. It’s overwhelming now, with all of Soonyoung’s emotions seeping through his voice and pouring from his face. Wonwoo avoids eye contact the best he can. Soonyoung nudges him. “Wonwoo.”

“Soonyoung,” He mimes. Soonyoung breaks into a smile, and Wonwoo covers his face to hide his own. He’s eventually being straddled, Soonyoung’s pudgy fingers trying to pry Wonwoo’s hands from his face by the wrists.

“You’re staying for me?” He asks again. It’s said gently, despite their current position. Wonwoo is groaning, writhing—then giggling. Soonyoung is radiating the most love Wonwoo thinks he’s ever felt, and his eyes are filled with mirth, brows upturned as if he may cry.

At some point, Wonwoo ends up on his back with Soonyoung collapsing into his chest, knees tucked in on either side of Wonwoo’s torso. His arms wrap tightly around Soonyoung when he does, evidently, cry. Small tears, made apparent only by the way Wonwoo can feel lips tremble against his collarbone.

He thinks it’s silly that Soonyoung would even ask for clarification. He knew the answer, even before Wonwoo had said anything, even before Wonwoo had to think on any of this. And honestly, Wonwoo’s probably known the answer since then, too. He’d be an idiot to let himself leave Soonyoung behind.

 

_              {“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”} _

This time around, during finals season, Wonwoo is the one who finishes first—and so, much like the day that Soonyoung asked Wonwoo to be his boyfriend, they are together until the last moment. It’s just that this time, it’s reversed, with Soonyoung watching Wonwoo pack his things—and this time,  _ everything _ has to be packed. They’re nearing the end of their job, it seems, as Wonwoo’s walls are completely barren and his bed is stripped entirely, revealing that classically ugly, navy dorm room mattress. Soonyoung is uncharacteristically quiet, curled up on the edge of it, with his knees tucked to his chest.

Wonwoo packs diligently, as he’s had to do it so many times before. He rolls his plates in towels and rolls his clothes tightly. Soonyoung watches him with intent, or perhaps fascination, or sadness. Wonwoo pouts each time he looks over at him.

“What’s the matter?” Wonwoo asks, closing his final desk drawer—it’s empty. All that’s left is for him to pack up his bathroom. The sound nearly makes Soonyoung flinch.

“I’m  _ sad,” _ he whines, “I’m not gonna see you for like, four months.”

“Four months is nothing,” Wonwoo insists, “four months is a hell of a lot shorter than forever.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not sad.” Soonyoung looks like he’s trying really hard not to cry. Wonwoo wanders over to him, pulling him into a hug, knees and all.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says, shushing him, “I’m sad, too.”

“Can we, like…” Soonyoung laughs at himself—Wonwoo always expects the worst when he does that. “Can we practice saying goodbye? Or just say it right now, and not say it later? I’m afraid I’ll cry a lot, and I don’t want to scare your Uber driver…”

That’s so cute. Disconcerting, but cute. “You want to?” Wonwoo chuckles a bit at the concept of it. He does get Soonyoung’s point, though. “You go first.”

Wonwoo clasps his hands around the back of Soonyoung’s neck, shooting him an expectant look. Soonyoung takes a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Wonwoo. I love you. See you soon.” His voice is small and quiet, but doesn’t waver. Wonwoo smiles.

“I love you, too. Goodbye, Soonyoung.” He pauses to kiss him, chaste but deep. “See you soon.”

What a beautiful thing it is, Wonwoo thinks—for “goodbye” to not mean “forever.”

———

Soonyoung realized, later in the day, that he and Wonwoo hadn’t ever finished the very end of  _ The House at Pooh Corner _ —and after running to his dorm, he returns with  _ The World of Pooh  _ in his hands, huffing and puffing. They had no time for Soonyoung to read it out loud, and Soonyoung seemed disappointed, but Wonwoo promised he’d read it in the car on the way to the airport, or on the plane.

He manages to find some time in the car, and as he thumbs through the pages, he reads every single word in Soonyoung’s voice—the same voice that read him to sleep; the same voice that reassured him, endlessly and without fail; that loves him, and that he loves in return. Soonyoung, of all people, was bound to be the one that Wonwoo fought to stuck around for. The Soonyoung that indulged his Piña Colada Slurpee obsession and fed ducks in his pajamas is the same Soonyoung that Wonwoo owes nearly everything to, and for that, he is so, so grateful.

Wonwoo doesn’t realize he’s crying until he gets to the last page. He looks up to blink tears out of his eyes.

He spots a flock of ducks flying overhead, northbound, and knows that all is well.

 

_              {Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt for Pooh's paw. _

_              “Pooh,” said Christopher Robin earnestly, “if I—if I'm not quite—" he stopped and tried again. “Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won't you?” _

_              “Understand what?” _

_              “Oh, nothing.” He laughed and jumped to his feet. “Come on!” _

_              “Where?” said Pooh. _

_              “Anywhere,” said Christopher Robin.} _

 

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @palmfairy! please feel free to follow me and chat with me! thank you so much for reading.


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